


Potions

by FantasticNumberNine



Series: John Watson and the Philosopher's Stone [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Crossover, Gen, Greg is a good friend, John is confused, Potions Class, Potterlock, mycroft knows the answers, snape is a git
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1906932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasticNumberNine/pseuds/FantasticNumberNine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is tired of everyone making a big deal over his name and fame, and swears he'll probably punch the next person to do so. Unfortunately, he's got potions next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Potions

**Author's Note:**

> Recognizable phrases are borrowed. Snape's lines are too brilliant to alter much.

By the time Friday came along, John and Greg had gotten lost more times than either boy thought possible, and John was ready to hurt the next person who made a scene over his name and celebrity. 

"Ah yes. John Watson. Our new-- _celebrity."_

John clenched his jaw, "Yes?"

Something in Professor Snape's face twitched. "Tell me, what would I have if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

John blinked. What? "Er, I don't know. Sir."

A long-suffering sigh sounded behind him (of course, Mycroft Holmes would know the answer. Prat).

"Fame clearly isn't everything."

Throwing something at the Professor would likely land him a detention or fifty.

"Let's try again, Mr. Watson. Where would you look if i asked you to find me a bezoar?"

John was a smart boy. He wasn't an idiot. He wasn't. This was unfair. "I don't know, sir."

Professor Snape's smile was predatory. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming to my class, Mr. Watson?"

John was fuming, but forced himself not to break eye contact with his new git of a Professor.

"What is the difference, Watson, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Of course, John had no idea and Mycroft Holmes thrust his hand with the air of someone tired of suffering through John's exhausting incompetence.

"I have no idea, sir. Maybe you'd have better luck asking Holmes."

There was a smattering of muffled laughter and John knew he was a dead man.

"Put your hand down," he snapped at Mycroft. "For your information, Watson, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomack of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Taking a point from Gryffindor for cheek, Snape set them all to making their first potion. Here John let out a deep, frustrated, breath before getting to work with Greg. 

It wasn't that John didn't know the material--he'd devoured his potions book over summer, and had gone over the first chapters several times this week. But none of those questions could be answered from the first fifty pages of his book. He couldn't even recall them being in any of the later chapters--what first year was supposed to know the composition of the Draught of Living Death? He'd remember about the bezoar though, that sounded useful.

John just managed to stop Greg adding the porcupine quills before taking their cauldron off the fire when--

"Idiot girl! I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Greg turned a bit green, Molly had melted her cauldron and it's contents spilled all over the desk she shared with Finnegan. "Thanks..."

Professor Snape rounded on the boys, "You, Watson, why didn't you tell her not to add the quills?"

John spluttered.

"Thought she'd make you look good if she failed did you? That's another point you've lost Gryffindor."

Greg grabbed John's arm and muttered quietly, "Don't."

John had no idea how he managed to finish his potion in his furious haze, but the sample he'd bottled to turn in looked like his book said it ought.

Greg threw an arm around his shoulders after class. "Cheer up mate, the twins are always losing points. And we're going to see Hagrid after lunch!" 

Finally, John smiled, setting aside all thoughts about the potions master and how much he seemed to hate John Watson.

**Author's Note:**

> Mycroft as Hermione is harder than I imagined, he's impossible to write as the over eager muggleborn standing up and waving his hand in the air because he knows the answer... Even at eleven he's a bit too dignified.


End file.
